


Coffee Shop Snapshots

by zerodaysdone



Series: The Stories We'll Tell [1]
Category: Imperial Radch Series - Ann Leckie
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bad Decisions in General, F/F, Mild Arson, Organized Crime, Pear Smuggling, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7383064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerodaysdone/pseuds/zerodaysdone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adventures of the employees of Rad Chai Coffee & Books (or the token coffee shop AU).<br/>Breq's a baker, Seivarden's a Disaster™, Anaander's up to some shady shit, Tisarwat's hit some tough times, Ekalu's trying her best, Mercy was in a bike gang, and Kalr Five may or may not have been in a cult.<br/>Oh, and Awn might just be a cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seivarden: Human Disaster Extraordinaire

**Author's Note:**

> For better or for worse, Seivarden gets forcefully employed by Rad Chai Coffee & Books.
> 
> (Disclaimer that I know nothing about anything and shout-out to gemofsphene for beta-ing)

As far as anyone was concerned, job applications didn't really exist the Radch Cafe and Bookstore. Sure, once in a while someone would come in and ask for a job, but that never meant that they'd be hired.

No, hiring, as far as most employees were concerned, was some sort of mystical process that required a ouija board, a liter of blood, some candles, the locked door of their boss's office, and some weird brand of witchcraft only Breq could do.

In reality, it was much simpler.

***

“We should hire her,” said Breq flatly, standing in front of Anaander's desk.

“No.”

“Why.”

“All she does is smoke shit next to the dumpster behind the cafe. We're not hiring her,” said Anaander, pointedly staring down at the monthly expense report.

“Ok... Let me put it this way... Hire her or I'll punch you in the face.”

***

The next morning, just as Seivarden was about to light a joint behind her favorite dumpster, a short, stocky, bald, person shoved a light blue apron at her and brusquely told her that her shift was starting.

Seivarden squinted, trying to place where she knew this random capitalist from. “I don't remember applying for a job.”

The bald capitalist stared at her impassively. “But you want one, right?”

“Well, in this economy-” Seivarden started sarcastically.

“Then get to work.”

“...can I, uh, smoke first?”

The employee seemed to actually consider it for a second, then shook her head no and herded Seivarden into the cafe.

***

As it turned out, Seivarden was awful at her job. However, so were most of the other employees, and most of the customers were just there for some sort of “authentic hipster experience” so it didn't really matter. It was part of the “ambiance.” The person was apparently not a capitalist, but someone named Breq, who had cordially introduced her to her harried shift-mate.

“Ok,” said Ekalu, the shift-mate, as they chain smoked during their break. “Welcome to the Rad Chai Books. Here're the ground rules. Breq's the baker, shift manager, and occasional barista. She's terrifying and can do anything. I heard she killed a guy in college. She sings a lot, badly. Anaander Mianaai is our boss. Yes. I know. Tongue twister. She literally killed a guy once so like. Don't fuck with her. There's a door to her office in the book shop, but she works weird hours. Pray to whatever that you never meet her. Mercy's the cashier in the bookstore part of this mess. She's good and pure. Be nice to her. That's all.”

“And, uh, what exactly do you do here?”

Ekalu fixed her with a tired stare. “My best.”

***

“Oh, you dropped out of college?” asked Mercy softly, some time later. “So did I!”

Seivarden smiled politely, remembering Ekalu's words. “What'd you do?”

“I was part of a motorcycle gang. Good times, good times. But now I'm banned from every bar in the state of Michigan so. You win some, you lose some, I guess.”

***

Four hours later, Seivarden was hyperventilating in the single-stall employee bathroom. A bit of heavy smoke hung around her head.

“How was your first shift?” asked a rough, even, voice from behind her.

Seivarden jumped and let out an embarrassing screech.

Breq stood behind her, blue apron immaculate. There was a sort of determined glint in her eye and the door was locked behind her.

“How the fuck did you get in here?”

Breq shrugged, a pleasant expression just this side of creepy plastered over her face. “Unimportant. How was your first shift?”

Seivarden crossed her arms. “It was, uh, ok.”

“Would you like to work full time?” asked Breq, just as pleasantly.

“I guess?”

“When would you be free?”

“This is America. I'm always free.”

Silence.

“Um, no really. I'm pretty much always free.”

“Would you like to work full time and do you need to factor in transportation times?”

Seivarden shrugged. “Any time works, really. 'm crashing on my... friends? Yeah. uh. Friends couch right now. I could just crash in the dumpster alley.”

“So, technically, you're homeless.”

“Technically, I'm homeless, yeah.”

“You could stay with me for the duration of your training here and after that, we will figure something out.”

This entire time, Breq had kept inching closer and closer. By this point, Seivarden could make out the capillaries in her eyes. And she had really nice eyes. Seivarden swallowed.

“If that would be alright with you, of course.”

Seivarden didn't know how she found herself nodding furiously.

 

***

“There's my bed,” Breq said, “There's the fridge, hot-plate, microwave, crock-pot, kettle, and mini oven. There's the couch. It folds out. The bathroom's over there... That's the tiny balcony. And that's the cat. Her name's Awn. She's perfect.”

The cat in question was large, fat, and significantly roughed up. Its remaining eye was yellow and currently fixed on trying to turn Seivarden's leg into a scratching post.

“Holy Jesus in a miniskirt,” said Seivarden, taking a step away from the cat.

Breq raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, she's beautiful?”

“Yes. Yes, she is.”

***

Breq's apartment was right above the cafe, the staircase to it located in the bakery, behind an inconspicuous door. Breq herself was cordial to the point of being cold and worked out enough for it to be concerning. Which, Seivarden wasn't complaining, honestly. There was no better set up.

Hot roommate, steady job... It was too good to be true. The faint itch of paranoia tickled in Seivarden's throat.

“This is a human trafficking ring, isn't it,” she finally said, over sort-of dinner a day later. Her hands shook, for more than one reason.

Breq kept her eyebrows perfectly raised until Seivarden looked away, face heating up.

***

Three days later, Seivarden finally managed to make the perfect cup of coffee, to the pleased surprise of a returning customer.

Five days later, she crossed “front for drug operation” off of her list of explanations.

Seven days later, she got her first paycheck and cried for three hours.

Eight days later, Breq casually asked her if she wanted to look for a new place or sign onto the lease at the end of the month.

Ten days later, she met Anaander Mianaai.

***

Breq walked out of the Boss's Office, patted Seivarden heavily on shoulder, and said, “Anaander wants to see you.”

Ekalu crossed herself and Mercy smiled sympathetically.

Seivarden crossed her arms, uncrossed them, took a deep breath, and slipped into the small office. She'd never been inside the dreaded office, and quite frankly, it was nothing like she expected. Just rows and rows of filing cabinets, a desk, and behind a worrying mass of computers, a regal person she assumed was Anaander Mianaai.

“You're... Seivarden Vendaai?” said Anaander, shifting her glasses down her nose.

Seivarden stood up just a little bit taller and balled her hands into fists. “Yes.”

“Oh, I know who you are, yes,” said Anaander. “However, the authorities don't.”

A million different possibilities scrolled through Seivarden's head. There were too many things the authorities didn't know, but would probably like too.

“You have no form of form of identification, you don't have a real place of address. Hell, you didn't even go to the trouble of setting up a PO box. Yes, I looked. How many Seivarden Vendaai's do you think there are in America?”

Not for the first time, Seivarden heavily regretted not changing her name to something suitably mid-Western-American.

“You know, I bet you don't even know your Social Security number,” smirked Vendaai.

Seivarden gritted her teeth. “Yes, I do, actually.”

“Really? Then what is it?”

“With all due respect, I'm not giving you my social security.”

“What. Why.”

“Identity theft is real and I'm not going to risk it.”

Anaander rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You don't even have an identity to steal. Relax and give me the number.”

“Breq told me not to give out personal information,” lied Seivarden. “And she is letting her live with me. So, in conclusion, she wins.”

“Ok, kid, how high are you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You know what, whatever. Just go to the DMV and get an ID or something so I can officially put you on the payroll.”

“If I have the time.”

“Have the time? What in the world are you doing?”

“...Well, I've been working 9-9 every single day of the week.”

Anaander thought about it for a moment. “Is that legal?”

“No idea. You're the one who sets the schedules.”

“You know what, maybe don't go to the DMV.”

“What?”

“You are, of course, to all appearances undocumented and your presence here can be deemed... what's the word? Illegal. And you don't want to turn yourself in, for... reasons. So, I'll give you some definitely not forged identification and in return you, you will work the hours I set and I'll pay you only a dollar below minimum wage. It's not like your actual identity is... what's the word... oh yes, worth anything.”

Seivarden squinted. “That sound's illegal.”

“You smell illegal. Do we have a deal or not?”

“Fine.”

They shook hands.

“Coincidentally,” said Anaander, before Seivarden left, “How good are you at getting things past customs?”

Seivarden stared. “With all due respect, you're keeping me here as a wage slave with no legal form of identification. Why the fuck would I be needing to get through customs?”

Anaander sighed and waved her away.

***

Seivarden told Breq that Anaander talked like a Disney villain and instead of responsing, Breq meticulously erased all of Seivarden's Monday shifts.

“What? Why?! The boss put those down!”

Breq fixed her with a sharp look that, under... closer... circumstances would really have gotten Seivarden going.

“That disgrace of a human being is taking advantage of you,” said Breq lowly. “On Mondays, you work for me.”

“And how much are you going to pay me? Only fifty cents under a dollar?”

“Twenty bucks an hour. Hour lunch, unpaid. 10-6.”

“Shit, I'm sold. Want to give me more days off?”

Breq gave her another look and put the eraser down.

***

The problem, Seiverden thought, was how quickly she assimilated to her new life. The work days were long, but relatively light, and on Mondays she cleaned Breq's apartment.

Breq was, to say the least, incredible. Or maybe awe inspiring. But definitely terrifying. But Seiverden found that working for her. Really working for her. However, you don't make moves at someone who lets you freeload in their apartment and ranks above you at your job. You just don't. You wait for them to make a move first.

Also, Breq was in all appearances a DARE volunteer, which dampened Seivarden's enthusiasm, though only slightly.

“No,” said Breq loudly, fixing a messy-looking patron with her customer service shark grin, “We do not serve alcohol with our coffee and frankly, you're setting a bad example for the children.”

Seivarden, the patron, and Ekalu all looked around for “the children.” The only candidates were three teenagers, nestled tightly over their gaming devices.

The patron tried not to look too visibly put out or uncomfortable. Seivarden unscrewed the flask in her apron pocket with one hand, and the moment Breq turned her back, poured a generous helping into the patron's coffee (which got her a five dollar tip). When she went back to her work, Breq was pointedly ignoring her.

And continued pointedly ignoring her throughout the rest of the day.

***

“I made you a coffee,” said Seivarden the next morning, and shoved a large cup at Breq.

Breq finished putting on apron in silence and turned away to turn the oven on. The silence stretched out to the point of being uncomfortable. Seivarden's arm started to ache a little from holding the cup out. Finally, Breq turned her head slightly, almost as if checking if Seivarden was still there.

“I don't like coffee,” said Breq, turning away again. “Give it to Ekalu.”

Seivarden swallowed hard, turned around, and went back up to the front of the shop. There stood Ekalu, looking intently through a “smoking kills” pamphlet.

“I made coffee,” Seivarden said, still half-stunned, and thrust the cup out at Ekalu.

Ekalu's eyes softened a little and she put the pamphlet down.

“It messes with the Benadryl,” said Ekalu, patting Seivarden's hand. “But the offer really is appreciated. Go give it to Mercy.”

Seivarden trudged past the divider and into the bookstore.

Mercy smiled gently before Seivarden could say anything. “Let me guess. You made apology coffee for Breq, who hates coffee. She told you to give it to Ekalu, who's too sensitive to caffeine. And Ekalu told you to give it to me, because she assumes I must like coffee.”

“Do you?” asked Seivarden. “Like coffee?”

“Honestly, I'm on a cleanse. I'm getting all the dangerous chemicals out of my body. Why don't you drink it?”

Seivarden laughed nervously and looked down at the cup in her hand. “I really hate coffee.”

Mercy shrugged, and looked down at her watch. “It's opening time.”

She tossed Seivarden the key. Seivarden walked over to the door and shoved the cup into an awaiting customer’s hand.

“You're our hundredth customer,” she said tonelessly. “Congratulations.”

The customer raised an eyebrow and took a cautious sip of the coffee, then made a face.

“Could you put hot sauce in this?” she asked.

“No. Just take it.”

“You take it. It's gift from you to me to you.”

“I hate coffee.”

The customer blinked, completely taken aback.

“Why would you work in a coffee shop if you hate coffee?” she asked, bewildered.

“I hate myself,” Seivarden said honestly.

The customer burst out laughing.

That was how Seivarden met Zeiat.

***

Five minutes later, Breq had them all gathered in the kitchen as Zeiat flipped through some magazines. “None of you were here last time Zeiat visited,” she hissed urgently. “But know. Do not engage. If you do, be extremely polite. If there are any problems, call me or direct her to me.”

“But she looks so harmless,” said Ekalu dubiously.

“That's Zeiat,” said Breq. “Zeiat Presger? Of the Presgers?”

“Oh,” whispered Seivarden. “Oh shit.”

“The Presgers? But didn't they move away?” asked Ekalu.

“These are their cousins,” said Breq, “And-”

“And they technically own everything. Everywhere,” Seivarden blurted out.

Everyone looked at her.

She shrugged. “What? Even my fucking dealer's scared of them.”

Ekalu side-eyed her. “You have a dealer?”

“That's not important right now,” Seivarden said, crossing her arms.

“We'll talk about this later,” said Breq, producing a bottle of hot sauce out of thin air. “Get out there and make Zeiat happy.”

***

“You know,” said Zeiat happily, just as the baristas had let their guard down. “My sister got shot here.”

A customer choked on their pie.

“It's nice to see people make something of it,” she said, unscrewing the hot sauce bottle and taking a drink from it. She swished the sauce around in her mouth, then swallowed. “I should come by more often.”

Seivarden backed into the kitchen and cast Breq a horrified look.

“She's coming back,” she whispered.

“Oh, come on, she's not that bad.”

“She pulled a living goldfish out of her purse and ate it, Breq. Put it in her mouth and swallowed.”

“Oh, is she still doing that?”

***

Living with Breq was surprisingly easy. She never made her moods known, never commented on something she didn't think was important, and let Seivarden butcher their meals and waste as much water showering as she wanted.

Breq was nice, quietly kind, yet distant.

She also apparently didn't believe in turning the heater on, which really only caused trouble with Seivarden, skinny as she was.

When the weather got colder, Seivarden started shivering. She didn't say anything to Breq, seeing as she was freeloading. In fact, she was hoping the weather would just fix itself.

It didn't.

So, one night, Seivarden woke up to Breq standing over her.

“You're cold.”

“No.”

They were past the point where such events shocked Seivarden.

“Get on the bed.”

“...excuse me?”

“You're cold. I run hot. Get on the bed.”

Seivarden scrambled to do as she was told, heart beating fast. Breq walked over, threw a blanket over Seivarden, wrapped another one around herself, and lay down close to Seivarden.

Not wanting to say anything, Seivarden just lay there, heart hammering away.

“The heat doesn't work,” mumbled Breq sleepily.

“Huh?”

“Anaander turned it off to save money, apparently. But she can't stand the heat, so there's still air conditioner.”

“Oh.”

“Sleep, Seivarden.”

She did.

***

Breq was like the sun. Unassuming, distant, scorching, and unreachable. Ekalu was more like the moon. Still distant, still mysterious, but a good deal more realistically attainable.

It was Breq who originally hinted at it, with Mercy rolling her eyes in the background.

Eventually, Seivarden worked her way up to it.

Meaning, her and Ekalu ended up making out next to the dumpster as Breq sang something loudly to herself in the kitchen.

“Stop,” said Ekalu, panting, and pushed Seivarden away. “Stop stop stop.”

Seivarden pulled back, surprised. “What is it?”

“Look, I like you, but...” Ekalu ran a hand through her hair. “This isn't fair to Breq.”

“What?”

“To Breq?” said Ekalu slowly. “Who you're living with?”

“...what?”

Ekalu muttered something that sounded vaguely like “I can't fucking believe this” and said, louder, “Breq? Your _significant other?_ Who you _sleep with?_ ”

“Oh,” said Seivarden, blinking. “ _Oh!_ No, Breq and I aren't like that. We're not- It's not even romantic. Or sexual.”

“You've been living with her for months now! You've known each other since highschool!”

“Highschool? What?”

Ekalu rolled her eyes. “This _is_ ok with Breq, right?”

“Yes?”

“Ok, ok. Let's just keep going.”

The singing never once lost volume. Seivarden would be lying if she said it didn't help get her in the mood.

***

Seivarden remembered most of high school uncomfortably well. So, if Breq and her knew each other since highschool, it had to be senior year. Which really wasn't reassuring. Senior year was a blur and she'd jumped off of a bridge at one point.

“So I knew Breq in high school,” she said to Mercy.

“Yes, she told us.”

“Yeah, but I just found out today.”

“Found out as in Ekalu told you as you swapped spit and lipstick?”

“Look, you don't have to phrase it like that.”

Mercy watched Seivarden impassively, but said nothing.

***

“Remember when I jumped off a bridge in highschool?” Seivarden said to Breq one day, as they were getting ready for bed.

“Yes.”

“I don't.”

Breq looked her up and down, then pulled her gently into the single most awkward, save-room-for-Jesus hug possible.

Those were the best five minutes of Seivarden's entire life.

***

“Anaander's secretly running a cult and this is just a front for it,” said Seivarden, on the edge of sleep.

“You know, I can neither confirm or deny that one,” replied Breq, smiling.

***

There was a point, Seivarden thought, when you were given a choice. Or rather, when ruining your life wasn't really an option anymore.

She flushed the toilet.

The last of her stash, or at least the harder end of it, swirled away into the sewers.

“Fuck,” she said, staring after it. “Holy fuck. Holy fucking mother of god.”

The next couple of months would be absolute hell, she knew.

***

She was right.

***

Gently, things settled into an easy rhythm. Work, sleep, pining over Breq, moments with Ekalu, and Mercy's steady presence. The hours were long, but there was rarely much work to do. She had a smart phone with three whole contacts in it and even a place to stay. Breq sang, customers came and went, and the sun rose and set. Nothing really changed. Except... Things were better.

 


	2. Tisarwat: Darling Child Spirited Away (& Not By Peter Pan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tisarwat becomes a criminal and is forced to work in a coffee shop. Everything is kind of awful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please note, i know nothing about anything.

Tisarwat hadn't signed up for this.

Tisarwat wasn't even supposed to be here.

“My parents will disown me if they knew,” she whispered.

“Shut up, take these pears, and run,” said Anaander, and shoved a large sack at her.

Tisarwat ran.

***

Hours later,worn out, hungry, and upset, Tisarwat stood next to Anaander in front of a shady looking motel.

It was deep into the night, with the moon and star-sprinkled patches of sky just peaking through the clouds. The wet pavement seemed to shiver in the yellow pools of streetlight.

Tisarwat was crying her eyes out.

“Well,” said Anaander, knocking on one of the doors. “You can't go back now, so you can stay with my cousin until we figure out what to do with you.”

Privately, Tisarwat thought if she meant the royal we. Then, the door swung open.

On the other side stood, well, someone that could be Anaander's twin. Tisarwat looked wildly between the two cousins, heartbeat speeding up considerably.

“This is Tisarwat,” said the Anaander that had brought her. “I called you about her?”

“Pear girl, right?” said the person that had opened the door. “Well, come in. What do you know about money forgery?”

Tisarwat looked into the room, which was covered in all sorts of racks and presses and stacks of what looked to be cash.

“I took an art class last year?” she said, trying very hard not to hyperventilate.

The cousin thought about it, then shrugged. “It's pretty much like that.”

Tisarwat glanced up at Anaander, but she was already gone, as was her car. Now, Tisarwat started hyperventilating.

“I'm Anaander, by the way,” said the cousin. “Anaander Mianaai.”

“Wasn't that-”

“It's a family name.”

***

“This, employees mine, is Tisarwat,” said Anaander sweetly, three weeks later. “She will be working here from now on.”

Tisarwat shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. The four shop employees stared in horrified disbelief.

“Tisarwat, these are Breq, Mercy, Ekalu, and Seivarden.”

She waved awkwardly and was met uneven chorus of “hellos.”

“Now, if you'll excuse me,” said Anaander, “I have to go check on my Neopets.”

When Anaander finally left, Tisarwat turned towards her new coworkers and asked, uncertainly. “She doesn't actually play neopets, does she?”

The lanky one, Seivarden, looked very thoughtful for a second, then opened her mouth to say something.

“No,” said Breq. “She's not secretly running an illegal Neopets empire.”

This, apparently, was in no ways a non-sequitor and slowly, everyone went back to their appointed places. Seivarden remained, looking sympathetically at Tisarwat.

“Get over here,” she said, tying her hair up. “I'll teach you how to make a passing latte, and then you can watch me smoke as a I give you cryptic warnings about your coworkers. It's a tradition.”

Tisarwat had nothing to do but obey.

***

Two hours later, Tisarwat stood uncomfortably next to a surprisingly nice-smelling dumpster and watched Seivarden blow smoke rings. Seivarden was tall and bony, with huge dark circles around her eyes and a slightly unhealthy skin color. Tisarwat figured it was best not to comment on any of that.

“Here's how it is,” said Seivarden. “Breq is the baker, and also god. Get on her good side. If you insult her singing, I'll punch you. Ekalu, the other barista, is a better person than I ever will be and makes perfect coffee. Anaander- You already know Anaander, but she's is a monster that does some sort of shady shit, but I haven't figured out what yet. Mercy runs the bookstore. She's a treasure. Be nice to her.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What do you do?”

“Well, fail, mostly.”

***

At the end of the day, Tisarwat sat next to that godforsaken dumpster, crying.

Someone shoved a box of tissues in her face. “You're leaking,” Breq said, not ukindly.

“Yeah, well,” muttered Tisarwat.

“Not ready to go home yet?” asked Breq.

“What home.”

Breq hummed. “How old are you?”

“....seventeen.”

“And where are you currently staying?”

“With Anaander.”

Immediately, Breq's entire countenance became less purposefully kind and way more warlike.“You're not going anywhere tonight. My couch folds out and it's pretty comfortable. Sleep there and I'll help you figure everything out in the morning.”

There wasn't really anything else to do.

***

Tisarwat stared suspiciously as Breq flopped down on top of Seivarden. She didn't want to get into it, but. The two were awfully close. Weirdly close.

Something brushed up against her leg. She jumped, then looked down.

At her feet stood the largest, fattest, meanest, cat she'd ever seen in her entire life. It was scarred in the weirdest places, and one of its ears was ripped.

“That's Awn,” called Breq. “And she's perfect.”

The cat sunk its claws into Tisarwat's leg and she tried very hard not to scream.

***

“No, I don't pay any rent,” said Seivarden, shoving an uncomfortably large omelet at Tisarwat. “Breq pays the rent. I cook, clean, and do the laundry. Why do you ask?”

***

“You live with Breq now?” said Anaander slowly.

Tisarwat nodded really hard, trying not to panic.

“Perfect! You've got to spy on her for me. I've been trying to get something on her for years.”

“I don't know if I'm comfortable with that-”

“You don't have to be comfortable with it, you just have to do it.”

***

“Word of advice,” said Mercy, “Don't go on break at the same time as Seivarden and Ekalu.”

“...why?”

“Do you _really_ want to know?”

***

Tisarwat nursed her coffee. Breq was singing softly in the kitchen and the other baristas were out back, near the dumpster. Mercy sat next to her, rubbing soothing circles into her shoulder.

It was like a soap opera.

“Let me get this straight.” she said. “Breq and Seivarden are basically a fifty's couple, but Seivarden's cheating on her with Ekalu, who thinks that Breq knows whats going on. At the same time, you're super into Breq, but the two of you never talk because Seivarden monopolizes her time.”

“Where are you even getting this?”

***

“...and then I tried getting a summer job and, well, I'm here now,” finished Tisarwat, casually leaving out the pears, the precinct, the forging, the hellscape that was living with any Anaander, the shootout, and basically everything except the fact that her parents never wanted to see her again.

Her coworkers looked pretty sympathetic.

“And you're absolutely sure Anaander's not running a Bitcoin empire?” Seivarden asked.

“Yeah,” said Tisarwat, wishing it _was_ a Bitcoin empire. “I'm pretty sure.”

***

Breq was terrifying. Like, really, truly, scary. Even when she was trying to be friendly. Well, especially then. Tisarwat witnessed one of these “friendship attempts” pretty early on. It was her shift and Breq was on break. No one really knew were Breq disappeared too when she wasn't baking, but today she'd chosen to grace the customers with her presence.

Tisarwat watched Breq make herself a coffee, look around the room, spot someone who seemed really into whatever she was doing on her phone, and sat down next to her.

“You're angry, I'm angry,” said Breq philosophically, “Let's talk.”

Tisarwat's heart stopped for a second, and almost didn't restart after the stranger gave Breq one of the politest, swear-less, cussing outs she had ever heard.

***

Tisarwat was sobbing again. It happened practically every day, sometimes unpredictably, and always at the worst time possible. After a month, the regulars had stopped noticing, but some of the more sporadic customers were still taken aback by it. Lately, she kept it just to instances when Breq was away for one reason or another.

“Hey,” said someone from in front of her. “How are you?”

“I wanna die,” Tisarwat breathed out.

“Why die when you can turn to recreational drugs?” the same someone asked.

Tisarwat looked up.

A long-haired customer in baggy clothes was smiling creepily at her.

“Tisarwat, is it?”

She nodded.

“I'm Sphene.”

From behind Tisarwat came the unmistakable sound of Seivarden dropping something and swearing profusely.

“Seivarden?” called Sphene. “You're alive? My couch missed you.”

“Well, I didn't miss your couch.”

Ekalu walked in, music blaring, stared at the scene, turned around, and walked away.

“Hey, I'm Seivarden's dealer,” called Sphene, voice bordering on sarcastic. “And hopefully, yours too, for the low low price of-”

Tisarwat managed to placate the customer by trading a large coffee for some sort of weird-smelling cigarette, which Seivarden promptly confiscated.

***

“I think Sphene and Zeiat would get along quite well,” said Ekalu some time later.

“Who's Zeiat?” asked Tisarwat.

Everyone within hearing distance crossed themselves.

“Pray you never find out,” said Ekalu grimly, and slapped on another nicotine patch.

***

“Yes,” Sphene was saying flatly, “Why _don't_ we put hot sauce in the green tea.”

“That's what I've been saying this entire time!” said Zeiat, “And they have the audacity not to have it as a drink choice!”

Tisarwat edged over to Breq. “Should I... Should I get Anaander?”

“If you get Anaander,” said Breq calmly, “They'll never find your corpse.”

Tisarwat excused herself to go have a nice crying session in the bathroom.

***

Sometimes, when Tisarwat couldn't sleep, she'd lie there listening to music and staring pointedly at the ceiling. Or sneaking looks at Breq and Seivarden. Who never did anything sexual. Ever. She'd prefer do lie there without music, listening to the sounds of the outside world, but the Thing had happened a week after she'd semi-permanently moved in onto Breq's couch.

The Thing wasn't her's to talk about. It had happened late after the shop had closed. Breq had been especially curt to Seivarden that day, which ended in Seivarden punching a wall in front of a customer and leaving early. Everybody acted like it didn't happen. Breq had made dinner that night, which Tisarwat had carefully and dubiously consumed. Tisarwat washed the dishes in the tiny bathroom, wondering how Seivarden did it. Who, as it happened, didn't come back until very late at night.

Which was when the Thing happened.

Tisarwat was pretending to sleep, but the building was old, and not very soundproof. As a result, someone in the apartment upstairs could hear everything that was happening in the coffee shop downstairs, and vice-verse.

And then, of course, there was the matter of getting to the apartment itself. The stairs to it were located in the kitchen, and there were multiple escape strategies. Or entrance routes, whichever.

There were three doors in the coffee shop to the outside: two front and one back. The front ones were in the coffee shop and bookstore, opening them up to the 'civilized' world (the two were also connected, so someone could go between the books and the coffee without needing to go outside). The coffee shop was also connected to the kitchen, where the back door was located. The back door looked out onto the alley way and the staff's favorite so-called dumpster: two giant trash bins and a litter of everything that had fallen out of them.

So, there were multiple different ways of getting into the apartment. Tisarwat had them all carefully cataloged and the reasons for using each carefully outlined. Seivarden, however, didn't seem to understand the merit of different exit and entrance strategies, and instead only ever took the back door.

Breq was asleep by the time Seivarden arrived. Tisarwat, having been awake, had exactly two seconds to jam her earbuds in her ears, shut her eyes, relax her body, and pretend to be asleep once she heard the unmistakable sound of Seivarden swearing and trying to break in. In three seconds, Breq rolled out of bed, angrily muttering something that sounded vaguely like song lyrics to herself, grabbed her keys, and went downstairs to open the door.

When she left, the room, Tisarwat actually turned on her music. She knew roommate etiquette. Had been subject to it many times in boarding school. The cool thing to do when your roommate was having angry make up or revenge sex was to try to drown it out and pretend to be asleep in hopes that one day, they'd do the same for you.

The Thing in itself wasn't sex of any kind. It wasn't even that angry once you got down to it. Tisarwat had only sort of heard it over her music, but she'd heard the most out of anyone. Except maybe Mercy, who was nowhere near the incident, but who shouldn't be discredited.

It started with Seivarden angrily yelling something at Breq, followed by Breq's calm voice, more yelling from Seivarden, and then the unmistakable sound of fist connecting to face.

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then a stream of apologies from Seivarden, followed by a single, succinct, apology from Breq.

Then, the lights downstairs were turned on, lighting up the upstairs just slightly, like the outskirts of a street lamp. The fridge opened and slammed shut, ice clinked, and Seivarden hissed out in what was probably pain or discomfort.

Then, Breq started talking. She talked for a while, and the only reason Tisarwat knew that they were still there was the rasp of Breq's voice in the lull between songs. She'd caught names, snippets of words, and part of an urgent question from Seivarden, but nothing concrete. That was what she fell asleep to.

It was called “The Thing” because the next day, Seivarden had a black eye, and Breq was considerably nicer to her. Seivarden was also considerably nicer to Breq. Which everyone had thought for the most part impossible, but which happened anyways.

During her break, Mercy came up to Seivarden and Breq, put her hands on her hips, and said, “Don't you two have something to say to each other? And to me?”

“I'm sorry that I was a dick to you back then,” said Seivarden, crossing her arms. “And I'm sorry I stole your bike and sold it to some hobo. Thanks for jumping off a bridge for me in highschool.”

“I'm sorry I punched you in the face,” said Breq softly, and apparently sincerely. “You're just trying your best.”

She turned to Mercy. “And Mercy, I'm sorry we called you at three AM.”

“Apology accepted,” said Mercy sweetly, and walked away.

***

Five days later, the flower shop employee from across the street came to visit. Not that Tisarwat knew anything about her, really. She'd just seen Breq watching her, and then started watching her herself. Because if Breq threatened to kill her for something like wanting to call Anaander... Well... Who could her next target be?

So, she was standing frozen behind a very drawn up Breq, who had insisted on serving this particular customer.

“...And that'll be for Basnaaiad,” Breq finished up, marking something on the cup.

“How do you know my name?” asked (apparently) Basnaaiad, after a pause.

A moment of silence stretched through the coffee shop. Mercy held her breath from the book room, and even from beyond the back door, everything was silent.

“It's on your name tag...” Breq said finally.

Tisarwat squinted at the customer's shirt. It was. Basnaaiad, Athoek Flowers & Gardens. She was almost ready to leave it at that, but apparently Breq wasn't finished.

“...And I know your sister. Very well, actually.”

Basnaaiad produced a pair of garden sheers out of fuck knows where.

“Listen,” she hissed. “I don't know who you think you are, you creepy stalker-”

“I'm not her stalker,” Breq said patiently. “I've read all of your middle school poetry. You had pretty good animal imagery-”

Basnaaiad opened her mouth in indignation, hand with

“Maybe I'd better go call Anaander,” said Tisarwat.

“Wait,” said Basnaaiad, squinting, “Anaander's in charge of this place? Anaander _Mianaai_?”

Breq nodded reluctantly. Basnaaiad's eyes shot down, desperately looking for any identification. However, as the the baker, Breq didn't have one.

“Who the fuck are you, anyways?” Basnaaiad asked, putting the shears down.

“I'm Breq Mianaai,” the baker said slowly. “Your sister and I lived together in college. She really loved your poetry, so she hung it up everywhere.”

“Well you're not the sleazy roommate,” said Basnaaiad. “She was creeping around my work way before you ever started working here, and whoever you are, my sister's _never_ mentioned you.”

“I went by a different name back then.” said Breq calmly.

Someone gently pushed Tisarwat aside and plopped Basnaaiad's order onto the counter, then retreated. Tisarwat turned around. It was a calm-looking person, older than her, with her hair in a tight bun. She smiled tightly at Tisarwat.

Basnaaiad grabbed the cup, took a deep breath, and said, “I don't care _who_ you are, just stay away from me.”

***

“Yeah, it didn't go well,” Mercy said quietly, a while after Basnaaiad had walked out and Breq had excused herself to go upstairs.

Tisarwat, Seivarden, Ekalu, Mercy, and the new employee were all gathered in a back corner of the bookstore

“I can't believe I missed it,” moaned Seivarden. “Christ on roller blades, I can't believe I missed it.”

The new employee shot Seivarden a weird look.

“Guys,” said Mercy patiently, “The new employee?”

Everyone turned expectantly to the newbie.

“Hi. People call me Kalr sometimes. Or Five. I used to work with Breq and Mercy.”

Ekalu squinted at Mercy. “Kalr... Isn't that your last name?”

Mercy winced.

“We don't talk about it,” said Kalr, face smooth.

Ekalu shrugged.

“Ok,” said Seivarden, taking a deep breath. “Tisarwat, as the youngest, can give you your introduction out back.”

Five eyed Mercy.

“Is this another cult?” she asked slowly.

“It's not that kind of introduction,” said Mercy, smiling.

Five shrugged.

***

Tisarwat held a lit cigarette very far away from herself as Five stood, watching her.

“So, uh,” she said. “They're terrible. They're all terrible. Mercy's pretty nice, though. I haven't heard her say a cruel word to anyone.”

“...Anyone?”

“Anyone. Anyways, uh, Ekalu and Seivarden do coffee stuff, Breq bakes, and Mercy manages the books-”

“Breq works here?”

“Um. Yeah. You know her?”

“She gave me a tea set once. But, continue.”

“Uh, that's it, basically. This, I think, is the place where you ask me what I do and I say something witty.”

“Do you want me to do that?”

“....yeah, but I can't think of anything appropriately witty.”

***

The next day, Seivarden gave Breq her apron and left out the front door. Breq calmly put it on and went to stand next to Tisarwat. Tisarwat was going to casually ask what was going on, but before she could get the phrasing right, Sphene strolled in.

“Listen,” she said reasonably. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“You're right,” said Breq pleasantly. “Which do you prefer?”

“Fine,” said Sphene. “Tell me where the stash is or you're in for a world of pain.”

At the same time, Breq said. “I gave the tea set away.”

Tisarwat backed away slowly, trying to look like she was busying herself with some elaborate coffee order.

“What,” said Sphene, blinking.

“You're not here about the tea set?” said Breq carefully.

“No. What the hell?”

“Look, you gave it away and I acquired it fair and square, so it was mine.”

“Oh my god,” said Sphene slowly, something clicking into place. “We're related, aren't we? God, of course you're one of Anaander's...”

Tisarwat frantically pumped the first syrup she could find into the coffee.

“I'm not with Anaander,” said Breq.

“...But you work here. _Here._ ”

“I don't have any other choice,” said Breq. “I'm not involved in any of her business. Plus, I work a degree above Anaander's petty bullshit.”

“So the fruit two months ago-”

“Not me.”

“I traced it to this shop, I swear-”

Tisarwat poured the coffee into the ice blender and turned it on in a last ditch effort to pretend not to pay attention. When she finished, she stole a look at Sphene and Breq. They were staring back at her. Tisarwat felt her mouth go dry.

***

“Why the hell did you close early?” asked Seivarden, coming in through the back door some time later. “...What the hell?”

Tisarwat was sitting in a chair, surrounded by Mercy, Breq, and Sphene. Five and Ekalu were suspiciously absent. Sphene was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Tell her,” said Breq, staring off into the distance, defeated.

Tisarwat told her.

***

“Jesus fucking Christ as a novelty dildo...” said Seivarden, sometime later. “All that for a bag of pears?”

“They were very expensive pears,” said Tisarwat sulkily.

“...you ruined your whole life over a bag of fucking pears.”

“It was important!”

“What in the world could be so important about fruit smuggling?!”

“She's forcing out the local drug trade,” said Sphene grimly. “And is also forging money, which honestly is just low.”

“Says the person who sells hard drugs,” snapped Tisarwat, at the ends of her patience.

Seivarden laughed so hard she started coughing.

***

“Ok,” said Breq, later that day. “Who _didn't_ know Anaander was running a produce smuggling empire out of the back of a coffee shop?”

Seivarden, Five, and Ekalu raised their hands.

“Now who hasn't, knowingly or unknowingly, participated in it.”

All the hands went down.

“...she gave me a giant bag of pears, told me to show them to no one, and deliver them to her dear grandma,” said Seivarden. “Let me tell you, that was no grandma.”

“When she heard I was going to visit my parents across state borders, she gave me an entire suitcase, told me to return it to her cousins,” said Ekalu. “All of them looked exactly like her.”

“She gave me a very large stack of money and told me to go trade it out around town,” said Five.

Tisarwat grimly stared off into the distance.

Mercy sighed. “I smuggled her stuff across the border for years.”

“Same,” said Breq. “Not just fruit, either. She used to do drugs, too. I think.”

Sphene snorted. “You think.”

“Plausible deniability,” said Breq evenly.

“Oh yeah,” said Seivarden. “Isn't that how Awn-”

She stopped talking, looked at the expectant faces around her, and quietly left the room.

Tisarwat couldn't help wondering what Breq's demonic cat had to do with any of this.

***

“So,” said Breq some time later, “What exactly did you tell Anaander about me?”

“...Nothing, really,” said Tisarwat. “You don't really do much, to be honest.”

“Thank you,” said Breq.

Tisarwat didn't have the energy to tell her it wasn't a compliment.

***

The first time Basnaiaad came back, Tisarwat was alone on morning shift. Seivarden had somehow managed to wrangle time off out of Anaander and everybody else was conspicuously absent.

Basnaiaad came in and, in one breath, said, “Give me a black coffee and don't ask any questions.”

Tisarwat did, dazed. In silence, she accepted Basnaiaad's cash and counted out her change.

“I like you,” said the florist, and left, smiling.

That was how Tisarwat fell in love.

***

So, maybe the poetry was a bit excessive.

And maybe she shouldn't have shown it to Breq “I don't know what an emotion is” Mianaai.

But that definitely didn't warrant the shit that Breq had said.

Someone knocked on the door to the bathroom.

“Occupied!” Tisarwat called, trying to make it look like she hadn't been crying.

“She wants to talk to you,” said Seivarden from the other side.

“She didn't say that.”

“Well, no, but that was the gist of it.”

“What did she say exactly.”

Silence.

“Seivarden...”

“She said 'We don't pay her to cry in the bathroom, get her over here immediately.'”

“That sounds more like Breq.”

“Look, it comes from a place of love.”

“She has one of those?”

“Well, her cat's still alive, isn't it?”

***

It was closing time.

“It has come to my attention,” said Breq, eying the direction Mercy had gone, “That I have been too harsh on you.”

Tisarwat stood frozen to her spot.

“But you have to understand, she's a little too old for you. She doesn't need a teenager fawning over her, and you're just going to get your heart broken. However, I know that you don't have the chance to hang out with kids your age anymore. Between your thing with Anaander, the fact that you conspicuously haven't gone back to school even though it's October, and your considerable work schedule, I think it's time you went out and made some friends.”

Tisarwat was about to protest when Breq took out two twenties and handed them over.

“That's for you,” she said. “Go out, have fun, be a kid. Do whatever kids do. It sucks having your childhood taken away and your life flipped upside down, all in one go. Enjoy yourself. Tomorrow, I'll have Mercy talk to you about the school situation.”

Tisarwat nodded dumbly and fled through the back door, immediately barreling into Seivarden, who was reading a self-help pamphlet by the dumpster.

“Whoa there,” she said, steadying Tisarwat. “What's up?”

“She- I-” Tisarwat held up the twenties dumbly.

“It's ok, I heard the whole thing. I'm just trying to, uh...” She consulted the pamphlet. “Be more considerate about other people's state of mind. What do you think you're gonna do now?”

“Try to pass as twenty one and buy a shit ton of alcohol,” said Tisarwat. “So I can forget that encounter.”

“I have a better idea,” said Seivarden slowly. “Give me your hand.”

Tisarwat figured she had nothing to lose at this point, so she did.

Seivarden took out a sharpie and wrote something on Tisarwat's wrist, then placed a small, cylindrical, container into her hand.

“What is this?”

“An address and some entertainment.”

Tisarwat popped open the container. Inside was some sort of weird smelling cigarette, a lot like the one Sphene had given her a couple of weeks ago.

“Thank you?”

“No problem, kiddo.”

***

The coffee shop was located in a convenient hipster sweet spot between the hell that was downtown and the suburbs. Seivarden's address led her into the latter, which Tisarwat was immensely grateful for. It ended up being a fairly large house, with blazing lights and blaring music.

A house party.

Tisarwat had heard legends of these things, but had never actually been to one.

It was an Experience.

They even had sickly sweet drinks in red solo cups.

It was honestly ideal.

Somehow, she found herself on the dance floor, drunk half blind and dancing up against... someone.

“I need a rest!” her partner shouted over the music.

Tisarwat nodded dumbly.

“Kitchen?”

“What?!”

“Kitchen?!”

“Yeah!”

Together, they stumbled off the dance floor and into the considerably more well lit kitchen and dining room combo. There was a couple sloppily making out in one of the corners, and her partner cast them an uncomfortable look, but said nothing.

Mostly ignoring the couple, Tisarwat and her dance partner leaned against the counter, catching their breath.

“So, uh, I'm Tisarwat.”

“Piat,” said her partner, handing her a drink.

Drunkenly, Tisarwat grabbed at it, then shook Piat's hand enthusiastically.

As Piat pulled away, she accidentally knocked her own drink off the counter.

Through some sort of miracle, Tisarwat managed the catch it, not spilling a drop. Looking up, she saw that Piat looked almost as shocked as she felt.

“Oh my god. That's incredible.”

“The perks of being a barista,” said Tisarwat.

“That's so cool,” said Piat. “I wish my job gave me superpowers.”

“What do you do?”

“I do, like, secretary stuff. For Athoek Flowers & Gardens.”

“I work right across from there!”

“Holy shit, you work for the Rad Chai Books?”

“Yeah.”

“Your guys' pastries are pretty good.”

“Thanks.”

“So, uh, how old are you?”

“Eighteen,” Tisarwat lied.

“Oh, me too! Are you in college or highschool?”

“Taking a gap year.” Another lie.

“That's cool. Working, building some experience. My girlfriend's also taking a gap year. You guys should talk!”

“Girlfriend?” asked Tisarwat, heart sinking slightly.

“Yeah,” said Piat, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. “That's, uh. That's her over there.”

Tisarwat followed her finger to the couple in the corner, who seemed to be very close to third base.

“Dump her,” said Tisarwat, and promptly threw up in the sink.

***

The next thing she knew, she was opening her eyes to a stripe of blue sky between two buildings. Her head pounded like nothing before, something smelled like it was rotting, and her eyes hurt something awful. She sat up.

Someone screamed.

Tisarwat was sitting in the dumpster out back of the coffee shop. In front of her, Seivarden looked like she might just start hyperventilating.

“Christ's nipples!” said her coworker. “Tisar-what-the-fuck?! Are you ok?”

“No,” said Tisarwat, very slowly.

“Ok. Ok... Let's just get you out of there.”

Tisarwat tried climbing over the edge of the dumpster and ended up falling onto Seivarden, who was considerably stronger than she looked.

Tisarwat took a moment to gather her thoughts together. Seivarden was holding her, bridal style.

“I was about to go look for you,” said Seivarden.

“Well, you found me!”

“Yeah I- Wait. Are your eyes purple?”

“...no?”

“No, they are.”

“What?”

Seivarden pulled out her phone, poked at it until it brought up the camera app, and checked her face.

Her eyes were definitely very purple. For a second, she freaked out. Then, she realized she was wearing contacts.

“We've gotta get those out,” said Seivarden. “Fuck knows how you got them in there. Jesus. You're taking the day off and we're gonna clean you up.”

Tisarwat tried protesting, but, for the first time in ever, there was something decidedly terrifying in Seivarden's demeanor that forced her to go along with it.

***

“Sweetie,” said Mercy, later that day. “Breq and I were talking, and we really think that you need to complete your education.”

Immediately, Tisarwat started shaking her head. Which she regretted once the headache made itself known again.

“Anaander said-” she started.

“Anaander is a piece of shit and we both know it,” said Mercy. “Now, you have two options. You can take the GED, or I can homeschool you. You'd be at work less if you went with the second one, but...”

Tisarwat started panicking. She really liked having money. The whole independence thing, while terrifying at first, had really started growing on her.

“Alright, we'll do the GED,” said Mercy reasonably. “I have all of the updated books and study materials. We can start on your next day off.”

Well, she should probably accept her fate, so she nodded.

“And another thing,” said Mercy, a little cautiously. “I think you should move in with me.”

“What? Why?”

“There's only so long you can live on Breq's couch, and I think it would be nice for you to have a room of your own. You could actually get stuff then, have friends over, that sort of thing. ”

“I don't have friends.”

“The phone numbers and names scrawled over your arms would say otherwise.”

Tisarwat looked down. Piat's name popped out at her.

“I only live a few blocks away,” Mercy was saying. “Ekalu and Five live there, too. The attic's free. You could even pay rent if you wanted, although I'd rather you didn't.”

Ok, now Tisarwat felt a little offended. “Why not?!”

“Because your parents seem to have disowned you, and Anaander sure as hell isn't going to pay for your future, so you should really start thinking about what you want to do with your life.”

Tisarwat blinked. “I uh. I never thought of that.”

“Oh, honey. It's ok. ”

“I... I kind of just thought that I'd continue working for Anaander. For the rest of my life.”

“Do you want to?”

“No! God! Of course not! But I just. It hasn't even been half a year but. Everything from before feels like a weird dream. Like did I actually go to boarding school? Did I actually have parents? Or did my life just begin in the Mianaai's fucking money forging motel room and three weeks in a fucking cult in depths of the Midwest?!”

Mercy looked at her sympathetically. “I think you need to go and talk to Breq.”

 


	3. Breq: Screw Composition, on to Exposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is explained and shit suddenly gets heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to empathize that I don't actually know how organized crime or coffee shops work lmao.

 

“Tisarwat's safe and talking to Mercy,” said Seivarden, putting her apron back on.

Breq looked up from her cake batter. “Good.”

“I found her in the dumpster.

“That's where I found you, you know.”

“I was _near_ the dumpster. I feel like that's an important distinction to make.”

Breq was about to open her mouth for a half-hearted retort when the door gently creaked open.

Mercy stood behind Tisarwat.

“You and Anaander,” said Tisarwat, looking very uncomfortable. “What...”

Breq nodded, wiped her hands, and gestured for them to go upstairs.

***

Seivarden poured tea. Tisarwat sat close to Mercy. Breq slowly took off her apron and settled down. Awn jumped into her lap, purring.

“Getting away from Anaander,” said Breq, “Is really fucking hard.”

Seivarden and Tisarwat gasped in unison.

It wasn't that Breq didn't swear, it was just that she knew how to do it properly.

“It all started years and years ago...”

***

The story went like this.

Breq met Anaander when she was fifteen.

It would be more accurate, in retrospect, to say that Breq met an Anaander. The entire family was awful and practically identical.

Anyways. At that time, running with Anaander had seemed like the coolest thing ever. All the other kids feared her. The seniors thought she was “dope.” Anaander was a year older (which was huge), had a large family (Breq didn't), and above all, Anaander gave her a purpose in life.

Unfortunately, that purpose was mostly selling weed to middle schoolers.

Again, she was fifteen. That's tenth grade. Tenth graders never make good decisions.

So, one thing led to another, and she got caught and expelled.

Because, again, tenth graders never make good decisions.

Her mom didn't know what to do with her, and the nearest school was way too far away and money was a bit of an issue. Which was when the Mianaai family had offered to take her in. They owned the apartment complex Breq's mom lived in, and a bunch of other stuff, so mom was super happy.

There was the customary packing and telling her to live up to her name-

***

“Wait,” said Tisarwat, “What does your name even mean?”

“What?”

“Breq? Your name?”

“Oh, my real name is Justice Torren.”

Tisarwat swallowed.

Breq approximated a smile.

***

This was all in a time when Breq still went by Justice. She was, somehow, distantly related to the Mianaais, she knew. But it didn't really matter. The family clearly thought of her mostly as a very useful tool. Breq wasn't the only person, or even kid, the Mianaai family had appropriated. There were dozens, possibly over a hundred, scattered throughout the country. Mostly in cults. And it was a very cult-like environment. Not completely there, not where Breq was, but near it.

It all went downhill from there. Weed was just the start of it. The new high school, too, was decidedly richer and different. Mainly, in that kids there could afford harder, faster, drugs.

That's how Breq met Seivarden.

***

Seivarden sighed dreamily. “Good times, good times.”

***

Seivarden didn't really know Breq existed.

***

“Ok, maybe not so good times,” said Seivarden.

“You peaked in highschool,” said Breq.

***

Seivarden didn't go hard from the get go. Breq just sat in the same lunch area as Seivarden and sold her and all her friends weed and vodka. And drove them places. And cleaned them up when they got shitfaced in a field. And made excuses to their parents. It wasn't bad. They were friends, and most of them were pretty nice to Breq, but Seivarden was just. Apathetic.

And then senior year happened.

***

“This is the part I don't remember,” said Seivarden.

***

Seivarden crashed her car and spent most of the summer in the hospital and then in physical therapy. Her parents, insanely rich as they were, made her move in with her aunt, who was significantly poorer and kind of a horrible person, but lived closer to the school.

That's when Seivarden went off the deep end.

Breq wasn't the one who sold her the drugs. By that point, she was getting more into the actual smuggling side of business. And beating people up in the streets. And robberies. More of the heavy hitting, physical stuff.

Where Seivarden got her drugs on, Breq had no idea.

***

Everyone looked to Seivarden, who shrugged and crossed her arms. “Shit, you think I remember?”

***

Long story short, during the winter, Seivarden almost froze to death because of her long time habit of getting wasted in fields and forests.

Breq found her when she was trying to bury some evidence and dragged her back to civilization.

Later, closer to spring time, when the weather got warmer, Breq decided to try bungee jumping. Not entirely legally, of course. She didn't get paid enough for bungee jumping lessons. So she just grabbed some equipment and picked a bridge.

Unfortunately, it was the same bridge Seivarden had decided to throw herself off of.

Thankfully, the bungee jumping equipment was very strong.

After that, Seivarden cried for an hour and disappeared.

Breq didn't see her again for a very long time.

Then came college. Or rather, an approximation of college. Breq didn't have the money and honestly, at the time the college apps were due she was too busy smuggling crates of plums across the ocean.

***

“So do you... have a highschool diploma?” asked Tisarwat warily.

“I have a forged GED.”

Tisarwat turned to Mercy.

“No,” said Mercy. “I'm not forging you a GED.”

***

Anaander went away for college and it was the best thing ever. This also meant that Breq got to take care of all of Anaander's shit while she was gone. Mainly, this meant the house-bordering-on-mansion that Anaander had inherited. There was no way Breq was living in the house alone, so she started renting out rooms. And, of course, selling illegal and rare produce (and other things) on the side.

Among them were Skaiaat and Awn.

***

“How old exactly is your cat?” asked Tisarwat.

Mercy shushed her.

***

Awn was perfect. She was a business major with a pre-law angle and she was trying her best. She was kind, thoughtful, and generally a perfect human being.

Skaiaat was ok. She'd had the weirdest pasty collection, though. Flowers, smiley faces, disco lights, she had them all.

Awn was the only one out of the house that seemed to notice Breq existed, and was even nice about it. Then, she'd stumbled into the middle of a deal.

And responded to it incredibly well.

And then Anaander had come back from break and offered to employ Awn, who said yes. Apparently only because she though Skaiaat was running a similar business and didn't want her to get snatched up by a competitor.

And so started the glorious years of Breq and Awn's partnership. It lasted all through college, until one of Awn's trips had gone horribly wrong.

It was the border to Canada, which was probably even worse, in retrospect. So, Awn got arrested and charged. Anaander hired a lawyer, paid all of the expenses, all very carefully engineered to make sure Awn would take all the blame. Because she was convinced Awn was working for Skiaat, which couldn't be more false.

So Breq testified and blew the story to hell.

Awn went to prison.

Anaander paid off the cops and switched completely to fruit smuggling, after a brief stint with Bitcoins.

Breq went underground and moved to Canada, where she played hockey for a while, until she got a brilliant idea.

She'd kill Anaander.

***

“Wait, what?!”

“You heard me.”

***

She knew where one of the Anaander cults was, so that's where she went. And was quite surprised to find it wasn't an actual cult, but a bunch of similarly minded people and a lot of Anaander cousins, most of which were forging papers.

Seivarden was there, too.

***

“I was?!”

“You were catatonic.”

***

The murdering didn't go as planned. Instead, through a series of things that would never be discussed, she ended up in Anaander's service. Again. And Seivarden had dissapeared. Again.

Which was when she'd met Mercy.

***

Mercy smiled politely.

***

Mercy had, until recently, been the leader of a bike gang. Which Breq respected. Anaander had recently abandoned a local coffee shop that she still technically owned, so they'd taken over it.

Theoretically, they were still working for Anaander.

In practice, Anaander was a little scared shitless.

So, Breq got a forged GED and became a baker.

And that was the end of that.

***

Breq thought it was all a little anticlimactic, but Tisarwat seemed to be impressed, so.

“This is the second time I've heard the story,” said Seivarden, “And every time I hate Anaander more and more.”

“We could always set her car on fire,” said Mercy, “She likes that thing more than she likes human beings.”

Breq thought about, then took out her phone.

“Who are you calling?” asked Seivarden.

“I'm inviting Ekalu and Five to a bonfire.”

***

An hour later, they stood in front of Anaander's house.

“Who wants to hotwire it?” asked Breq.

Everyone raised their hands.

“Who actually know how to hotwire a car?”

Ekalu and Mercy kept their hands raised.

“Alright, flip a coin.”

***

Hurtling down the highway in your boss's stolen car was a pretty satisfying feeling.

“Shit, that's a nice car,” Seivarden said longingly. “Good thing I brought a baseball bat.”

“I've got a golf club,” said Ekalu, speaking up for the first time that night.

They high-fived.

***

The car burned beautifully.

Ekalu leaned against Seivarden, who sat very close to Breq. Mercy, Five, and Tisarwat sat in a cuddle pile not a foot away.

The sun was setting.

The hot dogs were roasting nicely.

“Hey,” said Seivarden quietly, “What if Anaander sues us?”

“She won't,” said Breq, “We've got too much shit on her.”

Mercy raised her fist in the air in agreement.

Life went on.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! For all intents and purposes, this fic is complete, although I'm definitely thinking of adding some more installments about other dumb things that happened.
> 
> Shout out to tumblr users gemofsphene and badgerterritory. Gemofsphene for editting and badgerterritory for the pun "Rad Chai." The world will never be the same.
> 
> My tumblr's @chanderclear.


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